The Flamel's Shadow
by Maleficent of the Moors
Summary: A series of vignettes that explores a relationship between the main characters and their respective challenges throughout the manga/anime series. -Story submitted to the FMA Fandom Challenge 2016-
1. Despair

**This story was inspired by Hangebokhan's illustrations for the FMA Fandom Challenge 2016.** Hangebokhan's artwork can be found in DeviantArt. You can also see the illustrations in the FMA Fandom Challenge Tumblr blog. Hangebokhan's is Set 1.

 **TRIGGER WARNING: Implied abuse of a minor.**

The vignettes are only related chronologically. Enjoy!

* * *

The sound of Edward's gate closing reverberated throughout the wide void; Alphonse felt the sound waves coursing through his frail body.

"Brother…" The word slipped out of his mouth. The name had sounded like a lament but without a soul to provide proper context, such sentiment was something he wasn't able to gauge well. Nonetheless, he would try.

A different sensation emerged from his chest. It was light and pleasant, and warm. Alphonse placed a hand flat on his bosom. Ignoring the fact that his ribcage looked like a washboard he concentrated on the delightful warmth it was giving off.

The wonderful sensation only lasted for a few beats then a sense of emptiness took its place. Alphonse curled his hand into a fist, but not before his jagged nails left red marks on his skin.

Rivulets of blood blossomed from the scratch marks. The scarlet orbs resembled morning dew, the kind that covered the emerald hills of his beloved town. A wry, painful smile tugged at Alphonse's cracked lips.

Was Resembool covered in a sea of green, or was it vested in gold courtesy of the unrelenting sun? Even though he couldn't gauge the passage of time inside The Gate, he knew the pristine hell was affected by it. His thoughts shifted back to Edward.

 _Brother had grown so much._

Edward's hair was almost long as his, and his face had lost the roundness of childhood. Alphonse brought a hand to his face. Contrary to Edward, whose manly features were chiseled by puberty, his had been slowly carved out by hunger. His jaw clenched. He was still wasting away in that horrible place.

A dull ache started suffusing from the center of his chest. Alphonse then turned his attention to the present moment.

Retrieving memories was a challenging task for a soulless body, but with enough intent, he was able to salvage fragments from the dark ocean of his mind. This time around, he didn't need to spend too much of his precious energy in that arduous task.

Laughter filled his ears first, then an image of his grinning brother appeared in his mind. Edward looked jerky, like a moving picture which pace was out of sync. With some effort on his part, the movie in his mind cleared, and his brother's movements became fluid. Unlike the black and white movies he'd seen in the past, his was shown in full color. The images playing in his mind's eye were so vivid that he felt himself being transported to that particular memory.

Alphonse remembered Edward transmuting the playground at their school so it would look like a medieval castle. He even equipped the play area with vomiting gargoyles and ferocious dragons. His brother had created that monstrosity a few months before their mom passed away. Alphonse grimaced, hating that the memory he retrieved had to end in what he knew was heartache.

There weren't many distractions inside the white void, and his got ruined, so he turned to the task he'd pushed upon himself since the day of the rebound.

He'd been standing for a while now so it didn't surprise him when his right leg buckled after taking a step forward. Thankfully, his Gate was close by.

Once in front of the massive construction, Alphonse ran a bony hand over the stone surface, guiding his wiry fingers across the intricate carvings. He raised his gaze so he could study the words written in ancient Xersian, knowing that within those characters lied the clue to escaping that hellish place.

"Corpus…spiritus…" He uttered like he'd done thousands of times before.

But this time around, the gate rumbled.

Alphonse's eyes rounded with shock while the stone slabs parted. He staggered backward. A part of him was afraid of what he would find on the other side of the gate.

The tall doors offered a view of green pastures, blue skies, and sunshine.

"It's home!" The emerald landscape brought tears to Alphonse's eyes.

A sense of urgency rushed throughout his thin body, shifting his primeval instincts into drive.

Alphonse started making his way to the threshold, slowly, because that's all his body could afford to do without collapsing. And he did his damn best. One step, then another. He squinted when the glare bouncing off the landscape reached his eyes. Two more steps and the warm sun touched his emaciated body—he was going to make it!

When he reached the fringe between dimensions, a dark shadow slithered under his chin and coiled itself around his frail neck. Alphonse gasped. Immediately, he wrapped his bony hands around the dark tendril and tried to pull it off, but as he did, more tendrils wrapped around the rest of his body.

The symbol of the flamel appeared in the blue sky above, casting a large shadow over everything lying below, including himself.

"Why!" Alphonse cried in despair just as the tendril collaring his neck tightened its squeeze.

It was then when he understood what was really happening.

"No!" Alphonse fought hard to loosen the noose around his neck with the energy he had left.

The gate shook again, and soon the doors to the outside world were closed shut.

"My soul! I need to go to my soul!" Alphonse whimpered in utter frustration.

"What a shame…"

Truth's voice echoed throughout the white expanse; Alphonse shivered. Without his soul acting as a compass, he couldn't pinpoint the exact location of the deity.

The black tendrils, minions of Truth's realm, let him go, and he fell on hands and knees. His body couldn't stop shaking.

The white being appeared in front of him and knelt.

Truth lifted Alphonse's chin so he could savor the despair brimming in the teen's olive eyes.

"What were you thinking?" A devilish grin crossed Truth's etheric space.

Alphonse forced his eyes away.

"What were you planning on offering so I could grant your freedom?" Truth continued. His ghostly hand cupped a side of the teen's face. "Were you willing to surrender your mind?" His thumb glided across chapped lips. "Or perhaps you were willing to give up something else?" Truth added as he pushed his thumb into Alphonse's mouth.

Alphonse cringed but he wasn't sure if this was the right reaction to the given the situation. He sank his teeth on the probing thumb and bit down hard. "Neither," Alphonse growled, choosing to rely on his instincts.

Truth was highly amused by the teen's actions. He decided to let him go.

Though rather pointless, Alphonse took the opportunity to put some distance between himself and the wicked deity.

Truth turned to him; a fiendish grin spread across his ethereal face. "That's too bad." He said quietly before knocking the teen to the ground by the sheer force of his will.

Alphonse could hear Truth talking but the blow to his head had muffled the words. He didn't want to know what the deity was saying anyway, and was glad that everything was fading to black.


	2. Misery

**This story was inspired by Hangebokhan's illustrations for the FMA Fandom Challenge 2016.** Hangebokhan's artwork can be found in DeviantArt. You can also see the illustrations in the FMA Fandom Challenge Tumblr blog. Hangebokhan's is Set 1.

The vignettes are only related chronologically. Enjoy!

* * *

A hard jerk was all it took for Edward to wake up from his slumber. He fluttered his eyes open and yawned, then looked to his right to find the spot his brother occupied was empty. Another loud yawn escaped past his lips.

He felt the dip in temperature once he shifted to a sitting position on the wooden bench. Edward pulled on the blinds, which shot upwards after he let go. The drowsiness in his body faded into the background the moment his golden eyes settled on the white landscape. The rosy glow touching the mountain range told him that it was still quite early. Edward let out a long puff of air, he was frustrated with himself for waking up too early.

 _Alphonse must've gone to the dining car,_ he concluded after looking around for a second time.

He wouldn't mind having some coffee and sweets at the moment. Sighing, he propped his arms on the armrest and looked out the window, and waited for his brother to come back.

The Briggs mountain range soon came into view, and so did the Fortress that went under the same name. Edward's expression relaxed. "We've made it."

Neither he nor Alphonse ever thought their quest to find a way to restore their original bodies would take them this far. But here they were, ready for the next adventure. Edward reached into his coat pocket and felt the letter Major Armstrong penned back in Central. He let out a sigh of relief. Fort Briggs controlled every aspect of the north and he needed free reign to conduct his research around the region; he couldn't afford to lose that letter.

 _That Xinguese girl is the key to getting Al's body out of the Gate for good._

Edward buried his chin in his automail hand. He'd needed to find that girl at all costs—

 _And make her talk at all costs._

"Heh…" He snorted, his thoughts once again veered off course.

Edward turned away from the window and closed his eyes after crossing his arms in front of his chest.

 _Anything for Alphonse._ The darkness dwelling inside called out to him.

"Anything for Alphonse," Edward responded as if it were a litany.

It was an affirmation he'd burned into his soul the moment he decided to follow up on Mustang's offer to become a dog of the military. The flamel, Teacher's sigil—symbol of his sins—was also a great motivator. It's imposing presence cast a thick shadow over him. The cloak of darkness it provided kept distractions hidden from sight, forcing him to focus on what was important: his duty to his younger brother.

There was a particular book he stumbled upon in Central back when he was researching anything that had could be related to alkahestry. The book touched upon psychology and how pathological behaviors affected human personality. If he went by what he'd read then he could say that he was projecting his neuroses onto the sigil.

A wry smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Wasn't it normal to project? After all, it looked like darkness was his loyal companion, even more so than his own brother. _But that wasn't entirely true,_ Edward rebutted. Alphonse had been there for him, suffering for his sins as much as he was—wearing the sigil just like he did. Alphonse's sigil was red, though, the color of spilled blood.

"Oh, good, you're awake."

His brother's voice, so young and tender, dragged him out into the light. Edward uncrossed his arms and opened his eyes and gave Alphonse the same type of smile that he'd often given him when he was back in his original body. Edward set his wider, just in case it faltered.

"I got you some coffee." Alphonse handed the travel mug to Edward then took a small brown bag from under his loin cloth.

Edward's cheeks warmed just thinking about how the other occupants in the car would take to his brother's unconventional approach to delivering food. A quick glance around, and he saw no one was awake yet.

Sighing relief, he slumped in his seat.

He extended his hand towards the tall armor. "Gimme." His fingers curled and uncurled in childish demand.

"Here you go." Alphonse's chuckle rang through his hollowed body.

Edward opened the brown bag first. His golden eyes brightened when he saw two glazed doughnuts. He stuffed half of one into his mouth and chased the sweet cake down his throat with a swig of coffee. When he was about wolf down the rest of the doughnut, he caught Alphonse staring at him. If his baby brother would've been in his original body at this very moment, Edward was sure he'd been grinning.

The deep-seated guilt festering inside his heart was getting ready to pop.

Edward turned away from Alphonse and focused his attention on the moving scenery. He took another bite of the doughnut though it now tasted like ash in his mouth.

"Don't you like it anymore?"

Edward winced when he sensed the disappointment in Alphonse's tone. He gathered all his strength to put up another front for his brother's sake.

"It's delicious!" Edward rejoiced, but Alphonse's silence told him he hadn't believed him one bit.

The seconds started collecting all around them.

Edward hated moments like this; it left him alone with his thoughts. He left the mug in the armrest and crossed his arms in front of his chest then lowered his gaze. The gentle rocking of the train was quite noticeable on the floor of the car. But contemplating the worn surface lost its appeal realm fast; Edward chanced a glance at his brother. It was the red sigil on Alphonse's shoulder where his eyes were drawn to, and his thoughts went back to bloody memories.

Nina, Mr. Hughes, the people of Xerxes trapped in Envy's body, Ling turning into a homunculus—The way his wretched soul kept soaking up the blood of the innocent, it should be him wearing a red sigil, not Alphonse.

A thick veil of snow suddenly obscured his line of view, it only could mean that they were close to North City.

Edward's eyebrows huddled together in worry. Will the immaculate landscape remain pristine or will he stain it with blood? Will the flamel, the brand of his sins, cast a taller shadow over him? Did it matter? He slid his eyes at the hulking figure sitting across from him, and his expression softened.

 _Anything for Alphonse._ He repeated the words in his mind, then smiled.


	3. Grief

**This story was inspired by Hangebokhan's illustrations for the FMA Fandom Challenge 2016.** Hangebokhan's artwork can be found in DeviantArt. You can also see the illustrations in the FMA Fandom Challenge Tumblr blog. Hangebokhan's is Set 1.

The vignettes are only related chronologically. Enjoy!

* * *

Van took a sip of tea. The hot beverage burned his tongue and everything in between as it made its way down his stomach. The tea would've been pure torture for his busted lip but the broken skin had already come back together.

Sig raised his brows in shock when he made the discovery but refrained himself from commenting.

Van masked his unease with a kind smile. "This tea is quite delightful. Is it a local blend?"

Sig snapped out of his trance. He nodded once, then said, "it's black tea, mint, sage and hot spices."

Van's face crinkled warmly as he responded, "it's magnificent." He took another sip of his tea.

 _Pretend._ He admitted to himself when he his thoughts turned inward. Pretend; that's all he could ever do in those modern times. Pretend to have had experienced something for the first time in his life. Pretend to live a normal life when it was anything but normal.

"Wonderful tea, isn't it, Mr. Hohenheim?"

Izumi's voice broke through his train of thought and pulled him back to the present. Van turned her way. He noticed her braids were collecting water at the ends.

"Thank you, dear, for making tea while I showered." The loving smile she offered her burly husband transformed his hardened expression to putty.

Van held back an amused chuckle, recognizing men's powerlessness around women. 'And men dare to say that women are the weaker sex.' His thoughts lingered on that particular ideology. Humans don't change, he supposed.

An image of Trisha came to the front of his mind. How many times he'd been in Sig's position? _Not many._ He stared at the couple who at the moment only had eyes for each other. A pang of nostalgia gave his cold heart a good jolt.

The human condition was something he'd desperately try to cling to after becoming a philosopher's stone. In Trisha, he found love, and in his children he found hope—

 _"What a fantastic dream it was!"_

Van lost his composure. Tom, the carpenter, loved reminding him of his cursed nature.

And the bitter man decided to push the dagger deeper. _"Monsters don't deserve happiness. Don't you dare forget it—"_

 _"Thomas!"_ This time, it was Margaret, Councilman Jared's wife, who spoke. _"Hohenheim is innocent. You've seen his memories; he had nothing to do with it!"_

Grief wrinkled Van's brow like water wrinkles paper.

"He's right." He murmured; Tom wasn't the only soul inhabiting his body that resented him.

Four-hundred years he'd spent trying to stitch back together his sanity. The quilt he made told a story of peace and forgiveness with himself and each and every soul pulled into his body after the Dwarf in the Flask sacrificed them all.

"Did you say something, Mr. Hohenheim?" Izumi asked, her voice tense with concern.

Van wiped all traces of misery from his expression. "It's nothing," he said with a dismissive tone, "and please call me Van." Even his most cordial expression couldn't erase Izumi's worry from her face.

 _"That's because she's afraid of the monster,"_ Tom sneered.

Van cast his eyes down to the cup in hand. He felt the couple's eyes on him yet he didn't do anything to stop them from staring.

The silence that fell upon them was unnerving.

The tea was now as tepid as his own feelings. Van sighed, then pushed back on the chair and stood up. "Thank you both for the wonderful tea." He said as picked up his coat hanging from the chair. "I need to make it to the train station before my train leaves."

The couple looked at each other, then at Van.

"The next train leaves at nightfall," Izumi commented.

"Why don't you stay here and have dinner with us?" Sig added.

Van didn't know how to respond to that, and it showed.

Izumi offered him a contrite smile. "My apologies, Mr. Hohenheim. We should've asked first if you're able to ingest food."

A loud cackle echoed in Van's mind as his golden eyes widened.

 _"I told you she's afraid of you!"_ Tom snickered.

 _"Van, please ignore Thomas. Mrs. Curtis was being sensible of your condition."_

Van knew Margaret was right. "I'm like any other human, Ms. Curtis, I just happen to have a stone affixed to my soul."

A sympathetic smile crossed Izumi's lips. "Then I hope you stay with us." Her eyes went to her husband. "Sig's an excellent cook."

.

.

.

"Mr. Curtis, you sure can cook one mean steak," Van mentioned as he plucked the last bit of meat off his plate. "You should consider opening a steakhouse. I bet you'll become famous in no time."

"Thank you for the suggestion," Sig said, his face turning bright red. "I'm just a butcher who sometimes cooks."

"Ed and Al loved it when Sig cooked steak for them."

Van turned to Izumi and saw in her eyes the same type of twinkle Trisha had in hers whenever she talked about the boys. A profound sense of grief darkened his expression and he averted his gaze to the empty plate in front of him.

"Do you miss them?" She asked.

Van looked up and stared. He wanted to give her a proper answer but couldn't find any. His work—his mission—didn't leave room for sentimentality. He searched his vest pocket and took out his gold watch. With a push of a button, the engraved cover popped open. Van read the time then snapped it closed and slid the watch back into his pocket.

"Thank you for the wonder dinner. I'll be going now," he said, his demeanor was once again cold and aloof.

Van stood up. He picked up his coat from the chair and put it on.

"Wait!" Izumi called just as he started walking to the door. "We have something for you."

Van stopped and turned around.

Sig stood up from his chair and went into the kitchen. He returned to the dining room with a small basket in hand.

Izumi joined her husband's side; Sig handed the basket to Van.

"We don't know where you're going but please take some food with you on your journey," Izumi explained.

Van's mask of indifference crumbled. "I couldn't possibly—please don't worry about me!" He cried out, slightly embarrassed but mostly grateful for the couple's kindness.

Izumi placed a hand over her stomach and offered him a warm smile. "It's our way of thanking you for all you did for me today."

It was then that Van noticed the flamel tattooed on her chest, just below her left clavicle.

"That tattoo…why did you choose that symbol?"

"This?" Izumi perked up upon hearing the unexpected question but her expression changed as she considered her answer. She looked away for a beat. When she returned her gaze to Van, her dark eyes held sadness and regret. "A wise man like yourself know the answer to that question."

Van offered her a wry smile. "That I do know well." He placed a hand flat on his chest and bowed his head. "Thank you both for your wonderful hospitality."

He left the Cutis' house without looking back.

.

.

.

The steam coming off the locomotive covered the station in a thick mist. The jerky pull of the car made Van lose his place in the book he was reading. He waited until the train had reached full speed before going back to reading. After a short while, he found himself losing interest in the book. _Maybe another day._ Van closed the book and returned it to his bag then leaned back on the hard bench and sighed.

 _"Can't concentrate because of that woman?"_ Asked Tom.

Van didn't answer.

 _"Interesting tattoo she has on her chest,"_ The carpenter added.

"Yes…" Van muttered.

 _"Your oldest wears one just like it on his back. The flamel, the brand of the sinner."_ Tom added.

Grief clutched Van's heart thinking how he hadn't been able to save anyone, not even his own sons. A rueful smile crossed his face. "I wear the brand too." He tapped his chest. "The flamel shares this space with each and every one of you." He closed his eyes, then added, "I can see it if I turn inward. The flamel towers over everything, its long shadow shrouds everything in darkness."

 _"Let's knock that flamel to the ground after we put the Homunculus and his spawn in their place."_ Margaret chimed in.

Van's expression softened; that woman always knew how to ease his pain. He opened his eyes. "You're right, Maggie," he said, his voice filled with determination.

Because defeating the Homunculus was all that mattered.

.

* * *

 **End note:** This is the first time I've written Hohenheim, Izumi and Sig in a fic. I hope that they are IC.


	4. Hope

**This story was inspired by Hangebokhan's illustrations for the FMA Fandom Challenge 2016.** Hangebokhan's artwork can be found in DeviantArt. You can also see the illustrations in the FMA Fandom Challenge Tumblr blog. Hangebokhan's is Set 1.

 **TRIGGER WARNING: Implied abuse of a minor.**

The vignettes are only related chronologically. Enjoy!

* * *

A wide smile spread across Alphonse's face making his bony cheekbones protrude. He was sure that if he could look himself in a mirror a cheerful skull would be staring back at him.

Death was calling him, he could feel it in every inch of his wilting body. But he wasn't worried about this like he was before. Everything changed the moment he'd come into contact with the steel armor that housed his soul.

"Haven't you learn anything yet?" Truth chimed in.

Even though the deity's words were coated with mockery, Alphonse held on to his smile. "Once we are one, I will get out of this place." He said just as his golden eyes turned away from the ethereal being now standing next to him and settled them on the chained sigil floating high above.

Truth scoffed. "Is that so?" He crouched in front of the teen. "Look at yourself! You're all bones!" Grinning, he points with his thumb at the gigantic gate standing tall behind him. "You can't even hold your body up for more than two minutes. How will you open that?"

By now, Alphonse was more than accustomed to Truth's taunting. He mirrored the bring's toothy grin, even if it meant his cracked lips would bleed after. "With alchemy." He simply answered.

Truth remained silent for a brief moment, then a cackle reverberated throughout the white space. "You and your brother," he spurted between laughs, "are truly amazing."

Alphonse knew that if Truth had a human form, he would be wiping tears from his eyes.

The deity stood up and looked up. "Better act quick," he added while keeping his gaze fixed upon the chained flamel. "You don't have much time left."

Truth vanished before Alphonse had a chance to come up with a comeback. He sighed; the being was right.

Alphonse turned around and stared at his gate. A spark of determination flashed across his eyes. He got to his knees then used some of the energy he still had left to stand up. It took all of his willpower not to trip over as he walked the ten steps needed to reach the stone door.

Coming into contact with his soul, even for mere seconds, provided him a powerful advantage. Some of his soul's energy still lingered through his body. The steel armor not only transferred some energy but also provided much-needed insight. The link between his body and consciousness was partly restored. He could close his eyes and access memories stored within the seal of the armor. Those memories were more like fragments than actual memories, but he was grateful for the experience. Vignettes of his life in the armor became his favorite pastime in the white void. He saw himself working with his brother, laughing with his brother, and as strange as it sounded—crying with his brother. The armor counterpart helped others too. But the most important piece of information he inherited from his soul was the ability to perform alchemy without the use of a circle.

Alphonse ran a hand across the grooves carved in the rough stone, then said, "if he can do it, so can I."

Holding his hands in the air, Alphonse brought them together in a weak clap. "Please…" he whispered as he placed the hands flat on the gate.

Nothing happened.

Alphonse crumpled to the ground, his rickety knees cried out in pain when they came in contact with the ground. Olive eyes stared vacantly at the gray slabs towering before him.

What happened?

"What are you willing to sacrifice for freedom, Alphonse Elric?"

The chains encircling the flamel descended upon him and wrapped around his body like snakes. Alphonse stifled the frustrated cry that was trying to claw its way up his throat.

The chains tightened around his neck, wrists, and waist; he felt a strong tug. In no time, he was standing—shaking against his constraints.

Truth materialized in front of Alphonse. "So what it'll be?"

"Go to hell!" Alphonse roared, but his cry only encouraged the being to become crueler.

"I'll tell you a little secret," Truth said as he pulled on the chain wrapped around Alphonse's neck. "You need your soul in order to perform alchemy." He pulled the chain tighter and smiled when he saw tears prickling from the teen's eyes. A toothy grin slipped across its etheric space.

"Let's make a wager. Once your soul returns to your body, I'll let you transmute your gate. If you can do it, I'll let you go and nothing will be taken from you." His grin turned wicked as he added," But if you fail, I will personally show you the true meaning of hell. And believe me, it's much worse than this."

 _We'll see about that!_ Alphonse wanted to say but the chain squeezing his neck was crushing his windpipe.

 _I will be free,_ he said over and over again until he slipped into unconsciousness.


	5. Freedom

**This story was inspired by Hangebokhan's illustrations for the FMA Fandom Challenge 2016.** Hangebokhan's artwork can be found in DeviantArt. You can also see the illustrations in the FMA Fandom Challenge Tumblr blog. Hangebokhan's is Set 1.

The vignettes are only related chronologically. Enjoy!

* * *

"Al…hey, Al…"

The voice was distant but clear.

Alphonse groaned.

"I don't know if you can hear me," the voice continued, "I just want to say that 'I love you, and that I'm so happy you're here with me…'"

The voice was intrinsically male, and quite familiar too, yet Alphonse couldn't put a face to the voice.

"Now-now," chimed in another person—a female if his ears didn't deceive him, "Your brother is fine, young man. Now get back to your bed. You too have to rest."

 _Where am I?_ Alphonse asked himself.

He heard the male grumbling something under his breath, a click-clack of mismatched steps then the springs of a mattress whined. The sounds had come from his left.

 _I need to open my eyes._ Alphonse told himself.

He waited for his eyelids to abide the command but nothing happened; he put more effort into it. After a few tries, a sliver of light managed to come through the eyelids. Of course, the brightness hurt his eyes but he welcomed the pain. Everything was blurry at first, but the more he blinked, the faster things came into focus. The muted green painted on the walls greeted him, and so did reds, yellows, and purples in the flower arrangements stocked on the nearby table. To his right was a window. The sky, as blue as Winry's eyes, cheered him.

"I'm really back…it's not a dream…" Alphonse murmured before his voice broke.

His soul memory told him he was in one of the hospital rooms at Central Hospital. Everything was a big blur in his mind but he was sure that what he was experiencing was real.

So the male voice he heard was—

Alphonse looked to his left. On the bed opposite to his, lied his older brother reading a book.

"Brother," he whispered as thick tears drowned his line of sight.

Edward sprang up to life upon hearing his name. He threw the book and the blankets to the side and rushed to his side.

"Al!"

There was so much emotion riding on his name, that it made Alphonse snort.

"Brother," he repeated, smiling.

Alphonse raised a hand and Edward quickly latched to it. "So warm," he hummed.

"Yours too," Edward said, his eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"We made it," Alphonse uttered, the fog in in his mind started to lift up.

His soul had returned to him while he was still trapped inside the Gate of Truth. As the trinity of his being returned to normalcy, all the experiences he'd collected while being in armor came back to him with crystal clear clarity. His instincts had been correct; with his soul in back in his body, he was able to transmute his gate open and break free from Truth and the flamel's shadow bounding him to that hellish white void.

He'd been ready to gamble everything in order to escape his prison and his torturer when his soul spoke to him.

 _"Wait,_ " it said. _"Wait for Brother."_

As he considered the words, he realized that his soul already had made a gamble of his own. The reason he was whole again was because his soul sacrificed itself for Edward. His soul had put all his trust in his brother, and he'd been right to do so.

"I'm free," Alphonse said as his thoughts returned to the present moment. "I'm free because of you, Brother."

Edward blinked like an owl, his cheeks turning bright red.

A tender smile erased his embarrassment, then he said, "You also set me free, little brother."

The moment Edward transmuted his own gate was the first time in his life that the dark shadow of his flamel became lighter. Crossing the threshold between dimensions with Alphonse secured in his arms, became a liberating experience for him. While the sins of the past and the sins committed during his penance could never be erased, he no longer felt collared by them. He'd made it through the dark night and managed to see the light of another day.

"Where's dad?"

Edward returned his attention to his brother. "He's around," he said, shrugging his shoulders. When Alphonse's eyes saddened, he added, "he said that he was going to stop by this evening but first he had to 'pay his respects to the dead' or something like that."

"Oh…" Alphonse blinked and trailed off.

As the sole survivor of the genocide of a once glorious kingdom, his father probably set out to mourn and honor his people. He was branded too by the flamel, just like his teacher and his brother—and him.

A wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over him; he felt like fainting. And he almost did, but distress in his brother's face made him hang on to consciousness.

"I'm a little bit tired…" Alphonse muttered.

Edward nodded avidly. "Please rest, Al. The nurse said you're going to feel like this for a while." He petted Alphonse's head. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you."

Alphonse's eyes crinkled with happiness. "I'm counting on it," he said, then closed his eyes.

As he drifting into sleep, he smiled. At long last, he was finally free.


End file.
